


you will find me (in places that we've never been)

by Clamat_Submissa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Fluff, It's minimal though, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Pining Harry, Rimming, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, apparently i dont know what angst is, or how to write it, sooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clamat_Submissa/pseuds/Clamat_Submissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry considers himself to be an art connoisseur, and he goes to an art exhibition looking for beautiful pieces of art. How was he supposed to know that Louis was going to be the most beautiful out of all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	you will find me (in places that we've never been)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tortueux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortueux/gifts).



> heyyyy so this prompt was lovely, and i tried very very hard on it! so sorry it took so long, love, uni was killing me. anyway, hope you enjoy it!!! ♥

Harry's at a sketchy art show in Los Angeles because he's - well, he doesn't call himself an _art connoisseur_ because it's too pretentious; however, he has no trouble admitting he's an expert when it comes to art, especially portraits, modern and surrealism. Therefore, he spends over half his time going to urban art galleries and artists' valleys to see new, before-unexposed and wildly underrated pieces of art to contribute to his never ending collection in his house. It's the reason his first boyfriend left him, you know. And his first girlfriend, his ex-boyfriend, and his most recent ex-girlfriend as well. They said he's too obsessed with it; never gave them the time they deserved. And they were right.

 

The problem is that Harry aspires to find beauty in even the most common things. Sometimes, though, things are _too common_ and his attempts to make it more poetic "belittle the legitimacy of their relationship". Harry thinks, though, it's mostly that they were too afraid of being romanticized. It's a problem nowadays, he believes people focus too much on falling in love, but forget about being enamored - a feeling he hadn't experienced with any of them.

 

A feeling he's certainly experiencing now, though.

 

"Excuse me," he tapped on the artist's shoulder - Zayn Malik, a close acquaintance of his - and cleared his throat. "Who is that?"

 

In front of him was a painting of the most beautiful person he's had the delight to lay eyes on in his entire life, no kidding. He's leaning back, holding his own body with such a pained expression plastered on his face that Harry just wants to kill whoever hurt him. His countenance is scrunched, so it's a bit indistinguishable, but his _body_ ; he's naked and, save for the parts - like his crotch - covered by the satin strays he's holding onto, Harry can see every stretch mark, bruise and imperfection. They make him even more beautiful, even more perfect.

 

"Oh?" Zayn turns around and looks at his painting. He smirks and glances at Harry with an eyebrow arched. "Didn't know he'd be your type. Fall in love already?"

 

"You know what I think of love at first sight, Malik," Harry's eyes never leave the painting. "It's an impossibility."

 

Zayn takes a cigarette out of his packet and lights it, presses it against his lips and breathes in. "An impossibility?"  
 

"Like," Harry sighs and glances at him, gulping. "I wouldn't say I could fall in love at first sight. I think for me, it's more _infatuation_ at first sight. You can see someone and think, 'they are amazing', but not experience love immediately."

 

"You really do like giving sermons, huh," Zayn huffs out smoke before pressing the cig between his lips again. "So what? Are you _infatuated_?"

 

"More than that," Harry stares at him, now, and he can sense Zayn's slight discomfort at the direct attention. "I'm enamored. Zayn, I need to know who this is."

 

Zayn shakes his head and shrugs, putting his hands inside his coat. "Sorry, mate, can't do that. Promised him privacy."

 

"Well, ugh," Harry grunts and scuffs the road with his shoe childishly. "Can you at least tell me something about him? Anything?"

 

Zayn sighs and blows out the last of the smoke, throws his cig on the floor and presses down against the lit bud. "He's a model."

 

"Oh, come on, I could have guessed that-."

 

"An aspiring model," Zayn continues, ignoring his stupid input. "So he's answering as many calls as he can."

 

"So you're saying I should pretend to be a famous photographer looking for new models aspiring to work in the industry?"

 

"What? No, I-"

 

"Because that seems like the plot of a porno, and while I do wish to perform sexual acts that illicit pleasure with this beauty I'd like to get to know him before."

 

Zayn looks at him like he usually does; a little bit of respect, a little bit of strangeness. Harry doesn't mind; he's strange, a little, and he appreciates that aspect of himself. "Just… be careful, Harry."

 

With that, Harry pays an incredible amount for the painting and leaves. He hangs it on the wall immediately, and he's determined to find him.

 

+

 

The first try is such a fail, he's even ashamed to admit it.

 

The ad he posted on craigslist said " _Amateur photographer looking for amateur male model - Gucci photoshoot_ ". He sent the link to Zayn, so that he could show it to the beautiful man on the painting, and he's not expecting much of an audience to be honest; it's fucking Craigslist, people _have_ to know they're being bullshitted.

 

Apparently, not everybody understands that. Now, he's standing in front of around five hundred amateur models who believe they're going through an "application process" for the job. The worst part? He has to fucking photograph _all_ of them. He contemplates calling his best friend, Niall, but he just know he'll tell him to go to Hell. And he's probably already there, so there's no need for that.

 

It's long and it's tedious, but there's a possible light in the end of the tunnel - he might find the beautiful man. And it's not going to be that hard, Harry assumes; he already has kind of an idea of how he looks like. He already tells the aspiring models to "act as if someone dear to them died" - something that reopened freshly closed wounds, he found out - so that he can pinpoint the facial expressions, but he's with the umpteenth model of the day, and there are only two more waiting outside and they're _clearly_ not the guy he's looking for… it's just a very, very sad day.

 

"It's over, Niall, I call it quits," Harry's voice is laced with melancholy as he sits down besides the blond after sending away the last model. "I tried, and I failed."

 

"Then try again," Niall said simply, picking up his guitar and strumming a few chords. "You may be a muffin most of the time, but you're not one to give up easily."

 

"A _muffin_? What does that even _mean_?"

 

Niall plays a soothing, sweet melody that has Harry's body moving involuntarily and uncoordinatedly. "It's like - like _that_. You do weird, cute-ass things and you're influenced by mainstream society."

 

Harry's mouth falls open. "I do _not_. If anything, I am the most hipster-y hipster you'll ever meet!"

 

"Why did you stop liking The 1975?"

 

"I don't want to talk about it."

 

" _Why did you stop liking The 1975_?"

 

"Because everybody was talking about them!" Harry practically spews out and places a hand over his heart. It was a jab to the heart. "Everybody was raving about them on and on about how _good_ they were and how _they were the latest fans_ , and, like, most of them didn't even know they _existed_ until their song reached the radio!"

 

"Exactly! You're proving my point!" Niall's raising his voice but his strumming is still as relaxing as always.

 

"No, I'm not," Harry tilts his head. "If I were influenced by mainstream society, wouldn't that mean that I'd _start_ liking them once they were popular, not stop?"

 

"Did them becoming mainstream in society change, in any way, how you felt about them?"

 

"Well, yeah, but-"

 

"Then you're influenced by mainstream society," Niall shrugs and smiles and him. "Being a hipster doesn't exempt you from being soc trash."

 

"You suck," Harry says simply and tosses his hair to the side. "Okay, what do you think I should do? About the 'random lover' thing?"

 

"If I were you I'd call that Zayn bloke again - who I have yet to meet, by the way," Niall scolds.

 

"You haven't? Interesting," Harry frowns and looks Zayn up in his contacts. "He's so beautiful, and he's your type."

 

"You thought Liam was my type."

 

"Well, you're best friends now, aren't you?" Harry murmurs bitterly while he dials Zayn's number. After pressing call, he places the phone on his ear and wiggles his eyebrows at Niall. "I swear, Zayn is literally your type. You'd be such a beautiful couple, you need to meet him and then fuck- hi, Zayn!"

 

Niall starts laughing loudly at how Harry's voice suddenly got high-pitched, and if he wasn't on the phone he'd kick his face. " _What do you want, Harry_?"

 

"I want to find him."  
  
" _I'm not going to tell you where he is_."

 

"Understandable," Harry paces around the blank room and runs a hand through his hair. "I just- give me something more, _anything_.

 

There's an audible sigh on the other side of the phone. " _What do I get out of this, Harry? Besides a possible beating from Louis_."

 

A short gasp from Zayn indicates that he didn't mean to let that slip but _he did_ and Harry's so enamored. "Louis? That's his name?"

 

" _Yes, but-_ "

 

"That's such a beautiful name," Harry smiles at the ground. "Zayn, please, I have to meet him."

 

" _But, Harry-_ "

 

"What if I set you up on a date? With the perfect guy for you?" Harry can hear Niall falter and looks at him wickedly.

 

There's a small pause. " _Keep talking_."

 

"He's blond, Irish, beautiful. He sings and plays the guitar. Plays golf a lot," Zayn groans at that but Harry continues. "And he's demi, like you!"

 

" _Really_?"

 

"Yes! Does this Friday sound good, eight o'clock?" Niall's tugging at his shirt and poking him painfully now, but he's ignoring it.

 

" _Yeah, sure_."

 

"Okay, great, now," Harry licks his lips. "Gimme what I want, boy."

 

" _Desperate, aren't we?_ " Zayn chuckles but when met with silence, he sighs and gives in. " _Okay, okay. He's studying drama._ "

 

"Wait, are you telling me I am _enamored_ with an eighteen year-old? Is that even legal?"

 

" _First of all, yes, it's legal," Zayn chuckles. "And second, no, he's not eighteen. He's twenty-four. He's in grad school. Also, he works at a bar every Friday night._ "

 

"We're almost the same age," Harry smiles at Niall, who's looking at his guitar with a pouty face. He's going to receive the silent treatment from him, isn't he? "What bar does he work in?"

 

" _I don't know, that's what you have to figure out._ "

 

"What do you _mean_ , you don't know? Aren't you his friend?"

 

" _Yes_."

 

"Then you must know."

 

" _I do_."

 

"So, tell me."

 

" _Can't do, bub_ ," Zayn laughs at Harry's desperate groan. " _That's where your sleuthing skills come in handy._ "

 

"What sleuthing skills? I suck at this."

 

" _Then you'll develop them_ ," Zayn's voice gets lower, to where it's almost a whisper. " _So… is the date still on?_ "

 

"Of course! He'll see you this Friday. I'll text you his number."

 

" _Good_." With that he hangs up. Harry sighs all lovey-dovey and sits beside Niall, who's currently ignoring him. He shakes his head against Niall's shoulder, but - nothing. He pouts and actually licks a patch of skin on Niall's arm, which elicits a grossed out countenance from Niall, followed by jumping to the side and a childish "Ew!"

 

"The fuck, Harry?" Niall tries to scrape the saliva off, Harry just stares.

 

Harry looks at him and, with a much too fond expression, says "My future lover is an aspiring model, studying grad drama and working part-time at a bar."

 

"Hot," Niall snaps. "What is my apparently future lover like? What does he do?"

 

Harry doesn't say anything, just unlocks his phone and quickly searches for a picture he took a few weeks back of Zayn standing next to his most recent piece of art (not Louis's; it was an abstract piece representing Allah, and Harry still thinks it's one of his most beautiful pieces). Once he finds it, he shows it to Niall. "That's your future lover, and what he does."

 

He hears Niall's breath hitch and his skin heat up. Niall reaches to take his phone, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Haz, he's…"

 

"I know, love," Harry looks up at him and smile. "And so are you. You two would make the most beautiful couple."

 

"Imagine our babies, Haz."

 

"Niall…"

 

"Can't I live my fantasy for just _one minute_ , Harold?"

 

Harry gasps and takes back his phone. "How dare you call me Harold."

 

Niall looks at him and just laughs boisterously, which leads to Harry joining him and they don't stop till it's too late.

 

The rest of the night is spent with them singing old songs they wrote when they were in a band. Their voices had changed, they had changed, so it was definitely an experience. It was supposed to let Harry clear his mind, but he couldn't stop the questions driving him crazy on the inside.

 

One thing's for sure, though: Harry's going to go bar-hopping on Friday.

 

+

 

 _The Singer_ is around the twenty-seventh bar Harry's visited (although if he's honest, he lost count after fifteen,) and there's still no sign of the beauty named Louis.

 

"I'm giving up, Nick," Harry sighs and looks at his closest friend (besides Niall and Cara). Normally, he'd go to these things with the Irish man but seeing as he's on his fourth date with his future husband, Zayn (four dates in a month? Harry thinks it's love,) it's not exactly a possibility. And Nick's a good friend, yeah, but he… he has a different opinion than Harry about all this.

 

"Harry, you're being very stupid," Nick chastises and winks at a pretty guy glancing his way. "There are so many hot guys here, and there have been in all the bars we've visited tonight, and they all wanted to bang you."

 

"Now, come on-"

 

"One even grabbed your dick and fucking winked!"

 

"Which was _extremely_ uncalled for!" Harry's nostrils are flaring; he's still outraged. "How _dare_ he just go and grab my dick, like-"

 

"He was so hot, Haz."

 

"Still doesn't give him permission to go grabbing lil Harry without my consent."

 

Nick looks at Harry's crotch, then at his eyes, and then back at his crotch. "Harry, we both know there isn't anything "little" down there."

 

Harry shifts uncomfortably at that comment and stops himself from scowling. He really doesn't like thinking about back when Nick and him were fuck buddies… it's too weird. "That's not the point!"

 

"Exactly! Not my point either. My point is," he pauses to lick his lips and give another pretty guy a look-over. "My point is, Hazza, so many hot guys… and you're just focusing on this one guy, who you haven't even seen in real life."

 

"That's true," Harry agrees and starts walking towards the bar with Nick following closely.

 

"I just don't understand," Nick looks at him strangely, head cocked to the side. "Why? Why didn't you just sleep with any of the others?"

 

"Because," Harry licks his suddenly dry lips and sighs. "They're not him."

 

They both sit on stools and order drinks - well, Nick orders a drink; Harry's is paid by a pretty blonde lady at the other side of the bar.

 

"Are you in love?"

 

"I don't," Harry takes a long sip from his drink and sighs once more. "I don't _know_. All I know is that the longer I spend not knowing him, the more desperate I get."

 

"Hm," Nick downs his shot and orders another one. "Well, I don't know what to say."

 

"Don't expect you to say anything."

 

They sit in silence until Harry musters the courage to ask if there's a _Louis_ working here. When the employees shake their head, Harry orders three shots of tequila.

 

"Don't be sad, Haz," Nick points. He looks at the dance floor and nudges Harry with his elbow. "Look, see that pretty girl in the dance floor?"

 

"Yeah." He recognizes her as the one who bought him a drink earlier.

 

"She's been making eyes at you all night. Maybe you should dance with her."

 

"I don't know…"

 

"Oh, come _on_ , it's just a dance. 'S not like you're gonna fuck her or s'mething."

 

Harry does, though, end up fucking her. She was really lovely all night. Her eyes gleamed with mischief and interest. When the morning came, Harry kissed her cheek, wished her luck on her full transition, reminded her she was beautiful, and left with her number written across his arm.

 

She was his type. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have called her almost immediately and asked her out, but. Now, the number just burns and the memories of last night are quickly replaced by the image of the painting hanging in front of his bed, and he walks home with a headache and a heavy heart.

 

-

 

"I give up, Niall, I do."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I'm forcing it. If it were meant to be, we would have already met. By chance or fate or whatever. Yet, it's been almost two months and we haven't… so I guess, that means we weren't meant to be."

 

"I'm sorry, Haz. I know you really liked him."

 

_Loved him._

 

+

 

Harry does find him, but in the most unexpected way: in an Adidas store.

 

He's just walking through the mall, nursing a semi-hangover but making it seemingly unnoticeable. He's wearing his new sunglasses inside the mall, which might make other people think he's an asshole but really it's just so they don't see the bags under his eyes. This endeavor to find Louis is killing him, really; just when he thinks he's one step closer to finding him, he's actually two steps far from it. However, he's not going to stop; there's something inside of him that not only wants but also _needs_ , _craves_ to find Louis and just… love him. Love him tirelessly, love him endlessly, love him until he no longer can.

 

Just thinking about it makes his headache even worse, so Harry sits on a bench with a grunt, tossing his hair from side to side to distract himself from it. The bench is located in front of Adidas, a store he's not exactly fond of - he's much more of a YSL kind of guy - but there's a sports jacket that actually looks good. After debating the idea with himself over and over again, he comes to the conclusion: maybe shopping will take his mind off of the whole "finding Louis" thing.

 

Inside, he tries long and hard to find the mannequin but for some reason it isn't where he originally thought.

 

"Did they fucking move it?" Harry begrudgingly murmurs under his breath, too tired for this. He looks around once more and is about to give up, really, but then he sees it - only from behind. Harry nears it and while he looks at the complete outfit he's just confused because _since when do mannequins have such a nice bum_? In all seriousness; he's never seen a mannequin with a nicely-crafted arse, but this one seems to be rocking it. Much more of an accurate depiction of how the clothes will fit you, he thinks.

 

He reaches over and touches the jacket, to feel the material and whatnot, and to his surprise the mannequin fucking _jolts_. They both scream at the same time and jump backwards, prompting stares from everyone else in the store.

 

"What the actual fuck?!" The man - who is too fucking beautiful to be real, in Harry's opinion - glares at him and dusts off his jacket.

 

As Harry looks at him, he takes back what he's said his entire life about 'love at first sight' - if what he's feeling right now as he looks at this man _isn't_ love, then he doesn't know what love _is_. "I-I thought you were a mannequin," he's too flabbergasted to respond more eloquently. "I was outside, and I saw you from the front and liked your jacket. Thought you were a mannequin."

 

"How the _fuck_ would you think I'm a mannequin? I am not a fockin' mannequin!"

 

"How was I supposed to know that?! No one actually has cheekbones like that!"

 

It's such a stupid argument, really, but it's so _true_. This man is actually too beautiful to be human; it's only normal for Harry to just _assume_ he isn't. They both just stare at each other after that, daring the other to be the first to laugh, and the more they stare the more familiar he seems…

 

The other man's the first to crack, with such an adorable giggle that Harry all his worries seemingly disappear. "Wow, mate, nice line," he smiles charmingly at Harry and extends his arm towards him. "I'm Louis, and you are?"

 

And just like that, everything makes sense. This beautiful man, is the ethereal man in the painting he saw over three months ago. The same facial expressions, body type, body language - it's him, _the_ him. It's the man he's been searching for so long. What should he do, how should he react? He doesn't know how to deal with this.

 

"I," Harry's mouth is just dry - plain dry. He feels like he needs a tall glass of Lo- _water_. Just water. Louis just looks at him confusedly and arches his eyebrow, so he shakes his head and shakes his hand. "I-I'm Harry, Harry Styles."

 

"Nice name," Louis laughs, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Sounds like a porn star."

 

"'Ve heard that too many times before, sadly."

 

"Well, Harry Styles, possible porn star," they giggle together and it's so disgusting, Harry loves it. "You're cute. Would you be interested in going out with me?"

 

He's in honest-to-whatever such a shock, he just nods dumbly and murmurs "yeah, definitely, yeah, sure, yes". They exchange numbers, and Harry's unsure about whether or not Louis's really going to contact him. He figures he has three days, so he's not really expecting much.

 

That same day, Louis texts him.

 

_From: Ethereal Beauty_

 

_hey, hazz! (hope its ok i call u hazz - it just fits u). interested in dinner? my place, tomorrow @ around 7?_

 

Harry's heart does not leap, it does _not_. His hands are shaking as he replies, though.

 

_To: Ethereal Beauty_

 

_Sure thing, boo! (sounds like a good nickname for you). So long as I'm doing the cooking._

 

Harry goes to sleep after that, but Louis replies. When he reads it in the morning, a smile creeps up on him.

 

_From: Ethereal Beauty_

 

_yes plssss!! i cant cook for shit haha! i'll send u my address in a bit._

 

+

 

That night Harry gets to Louis's flat at around half an hour earlier because he's _fucking freaking out_ , but Louis doesn't seem to mind. Before he even knocks on the door, Louis's already opening it, seemingly knowing he's outside.

 

"Hey, Haz, come in!" Louis rushes him in, and Harry sees the inside of his flat; it's quaint yet a very lovely, homely place, with family and uni pictures on every available space and spot. It really doesn't surprise Harry, but what _does_ is the smell of Chinese take-out.

 

"So when you said you'd let me cook…"

 

"I was bloody lying out of me arse, Harry, please," He snorts and hands him a box. "As if I was gonna let you cook when I was the one who asked you out. Besides, you seem like an orange chicken kind of lad."

 

He is. "Thanks, Lou," he smiles and tries not to obsess over Louis's blush. "Best first date so far."

 

Louis just laughs at that and murmurs _dork_ under his breath. "The night hasn't even started yet, though! I was thinking, maybe, we could watch a movie on the telly? If you’re interested, of course, if it's not your style we can definitely -"

 

"Seems lovely," Harry interrupts him with a giggle, which Louis returns.

 

They sit on the medium-sized couch and choose a random movie on Netflix. To be honest, Harry doesn't really care about what's chosen or for what, his eyes are on Louis. On his cheekbones, on his nose, his eyes, his lips, his neck, his… his everything. And it's like that all movie, to be honest, and when Louis starts leaning down he immediately shifts so that Louis's entirely lying on him. His arms secure Louis's waist and he feels Louis stiffen a little.

 

"Is this okay?" He asks and Louis sighs softly and nods, relaxing into Harry. While the movie progresses, Louis's eyes go back to the movie while Harry's eyes are still on Louis. Sometimes they shift towards the movie, which he thinks is Legally Blonde but he can't be sure, but they're mostly trained on the beauty that's lying on him. Especially when he makes cute comments; it spurs on mini conversations that lead Harry to know more about him, and vice-versa.

 

The movie ends, but they remain cuddled together. Their chests eventually synch up, and their breathing patterns regulate, and all Harry can think of is how he can easily stay like this forever. And it's scary, really, it's fucking _frightening_ because he doesn't really know much about Louis. But… this is what he's been waiting for four months, possibly even more, and it's just. It's more than he could have imagined.

 

"Thanks, Lou," Harry looks down at him and can't help but smile. The urge to stay like this hits him again, but he doesn't tell Louis - who says _you're everything I've ever wanted, and what I've been specifically searching for a while now_ on the first date? Still, doesn't stop him from thinking it. "It was truly amazing."

 

"Oh, we just watched a stupid movie."

 

Harry shakes his head. "Being here with you, I mean." Louis's breath hitches and he blushes. "You're beautiful company."

 

They just stare at each other and Harry can't say for sure who leaned first - probably Harry himself - but then they're kissing, and - _fuck_. Harry feels his entire body set aflame, his stomach fluttering, his fingers _trembling_ as his lips touched Louis's. Louis's kiss is tentative, hesitant, yet sweet. When Harry places a soft hand on Louis's neck to take ahold of the kiss, he reacts instinctively and accidentally bites Harry's lower lip harshly.

 

They both jolt apart after that, gasping, out of breath. Harry's fingers run over his lip and he feels a small amount of blood.

 

"Oh god," Louis covers his mouth with both hands and looks at Harry wide-eyed. "God, I am _so_ sorry, Haz, I-"

 

"Lou, it's okay, really," Harry licks the blood off and tries not to moan. "I actually liked it. Found it really hot."

 

"Still," Louis's blushing but he's still upright and defensive.

 

"Is everything okay?" Harry's voice is gentle but Louis's startled. "You don't need to tell me what happened if you're not comfortable. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

 

"I-," He looks down and softly grabs Harry's hand. "I can't do this right now."

 

"Okay," Harry responds immediately and it surprises Louis - and even himself. He's wanted Louis even before he met him, but now that he _has_ and knows what he's like… Harry's willing to wait forever if necessary, if possible.

 

Louis, however, is looking at him strangely. "Why?"

 

"Because I like you," Harry responds. "If you can't do this now, I'll wait until you can, if you let me."

 

Louis's eyes get misty and he licks his lips. "You deserve to know why."

 

"Only if you're comfortable telling me."

 

There's a small pause as Louis takes his time to think clearly about how he's going to say what he wants to say. After a minute or two, he finally speaks up. "I… I just got out of an abusive relationship."

 

And that - that fucking _kills_ Harry. Those words fucking destroy him on the inside. Who - no, _what_ could be capable of hurting someone as beautiful, as precious as Louis? "I - I don't know what to say."

 

"That's alright, you don't have to say anything." Louis's voice is broken now, and all Harry wants to do is soothe him, hold him close and murmur sweet nothings in his ear. "Her name's - well, it really doesn't matter, I guess. She constantly belittled me, and made me feel inferior. She had a lot of late nights. She cut me off from my family, forced drinks on me when we were out to 'make me relax', controlled my income… it was horrible, Haz. I forgot who I was."

 

"Woah," Harry breathes out and holds Louis's hand sweetly. "Boo, I'm so-"

 

"It's not your fault," he smiles but it's grim, no longer the bright and shining grin he showed all evening. Harry wants to kick that woman's ass. "I just. I want some time to get to know myself without her, you know? Reconnect with the person I used to be before she came into my life."

 

"I totally understand," Harry says and kisses Louis's cheek. "Can I still lie down here, with you?"

 

"Please."

 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis's torso a little bit tighter now, and settles down with him. His fingers run soft circles into Louis's arms and he presses soft kisses onto the top of his head occasionally. Louis sighs and furls into Harry even more.

 

"Can I ask you a question that might be unfair?"

 

"Go for it."

 

"Do you think we'd have a chance? You and me?"  
  
"I don't know, honestly," Louis bites his lower lip and presses a very chaste kiss on Harry's lips. "I'm going to be really honest… I'm not looking for anything serious. After her."

 

"That's perfectly understandable," Harry nods and holds onto Louis's hands, thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the patch of skin below Louis's thumbs. "I don't want to rush anything. I want you to be comfortable. Let me know if it gets too much."

 

"Sure," Louis presses himself against Harry's body and places his head over Harry's chest. They sit in silence for a few moments before Louis presses a kiss to his bare chest and adds, "let's just see where it goes, yeah"

 

Harry looks down at him and a smile etches onto his lips. He's loved Louis for almost four months; he's going to be whatever Louis wants him to be, for as long as he wants to. "Sure, let's see."

 

+

 

_Three Years Later._

 

"Babe? You here?" Harry calls out as he enters their flat. He knows Louis's there, he can hear him bustling around in the kitchen, but it's routine.

 

"'M here, love!" Louis says airily, putting whatever he had in his hands on the counter and going to the living space. He doesn't have anything on besides a cute apron Harry had bought a few years back, and he has a cloth in his hands, presumably for wiping his hands off, but he doesn't seem to care much because he still throws himself at Harry. He grabs onto Louis's hips and provides support under his bum as he spins him around softly. They're too domestic and they love it.

 

"Hey, darling," Harry puts Louis down and kisses his lips twice. "How was your day?"

 

"Well, y'know, the usual," Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck. "The director is on my arse about the deadline. I mean, the play debuts in _seven months_!" He huffs and steps back, going back into the kitchen. "Got half a mind on sending him a damn calendar."

 

Harry laughs at his fiancé's feistiness. "I love it when you get feisty and angry. It's cute."

 

"Don't!" Louis points the big ol' kitchen knife at him. "Don't you dare belittle my feistiness and anger into something 'cute' or 'adorable." He goes back to cutting some vegetables, mumbling to himself. "My feelings are valid."

 

"Of course they are," Harry says and moves to be behind him. Then, he wraps his arms around Louis's waist and at first he doesn't respond. However, once he starts swinging their hips softly and pressing soft kisses on his neck, Louis responds by tilting his head back and resting it on the juncture of his fiancé's neck.

 

"Mm," Louis hums and keeps cutting, slower this time. "You know it."

 

"I sure do," Harry simply responds and keeps pressing kisses, this time going lower, dragging his lips against Louis's collarbones. Once Louis puts down the knife, he stops, simply, and then makes out fiercely with him, body tingling, chests pressed together.

 

They parted breathless, looking at each other with so much love and admiration it seems like a scene from a rom-com.

 

"Hazza," Louis murmurs against his lips, dragging his tongue out to lick his own. "We get married in two weeks."

 

"Mhm," Harry kisses him and smiles. "I can't wait until we become the Tomlinson-Styles."

 

Louis hums in response and Harry starts kissing his neck. He moans breathily, something that used to make him feel embarrassed but now loves - mostly because of how much it turns Harry on. Harry groans against his right collarbone and marks it.

 

"Harry," Louis whines and drags his head upward to kiss him messily. "Harry, please."

 

"Wanna fuck?" Harry's smirking but his pupils are blown out and his lips are red, bruised and sweet. Louis knows him well enough to know that his fingers are twitching, but he won't fuck Louis until he tells him to do so.

 

Louis grabs Harry's hands and places them on his arse. Harry immediately starts kneading the skin and biting his lower lip.

 

"What do you think?"

 

"Bedroom?"

 

Louis immediately scrunches his nose in protest. "Mm, no, too far. Let's do it on the carpet," he purrs, unbuttoning Harry's shirt. "Wanna get the marks."

 

"You won't let me tie you up, but you wanna get carpet burns?" Harry has a shit-eating grin while he takes off Louis's apron.

 

"You let me tie _you_ , though."

 

Harry pauses for a moment to stare at Louis's body, all tan, small and fit. He's so beautiful , Harry sometimes worries he'll stop breathing one day just by looking at him. However, when Louis tilts his head to the site Harry snaps back to reality and puts his hands on his hips. Louis's skin feels warm under his palms… it's nice, really nice.

 

"That was a good day," Harry nuzzles his head into the juncture of Louis's neck, smelling the sweet scent innate to his fiancé. "Rode me so well."

 

"I know. I was there. I did the riding." His snarky response makes Harry laugh.

 

"We should do that again."

 

"We should," Louis agrees and drops to his knees on the carpet, face in front of Harry's jean-clad crotch. "But now, let's do this, yeah?"

 

"Yes," Harry hisses and Louis giggles. He takes Harry's belt off and throws it somewhere randomly. Then, he pulls Harry's jeans down and is surprised to be face-to-face with his hardened cock.

 

"Commando, babe?" Louis's voice cracks the slightest as his hands grasp it.

 

"Yeah, got a, uh, a feeling - Lou, _fuck_ \- feeling, I - we, we would - _fucking put it in your mouth already, please_."

 

While he talked Louis was just ghosting his lips over the head and, like, he always does this, and it always manages to drive Harry insane.

 

Louis fucking giggles and grasps the base of Harry's cock. "Okay, kind sir. Your wish is my command." He spits on his hand and then starts with small, short licks all over the head, hand sliding back and forth from the base to Harry's balls. Harry moans and instinctively runs his hands through Louis's hair, grasping some strands when he actually puts it in his mouth.

 

"Yeah, babe, just like that," Harry's voice is already rough, which motivates Louis to bob his head up and down his length. Harry's breath falters as Louis picks the pace, and his moans are getting deeper and more frequent. The hand that's in Louis's hair presses down, which makes Louis look up.

 

"Can I be a little rough?" Louis moans and sends vibrations over Harry's cock. He makes his mouth open wider and it becomes slack, his tongue poking out a bit. Harry draws out a shuddering breath at the sight and tightens the fist in Louis's hair. He then proceeds to fuck his mouth, slowly at first but soon enough he quickens the pace enough to be insanely pleasurable while not making Louis gag too much. His moans get louder and louder as he nears his climax. Then, Louis places his hands on Harry's hips and takes all of Harry's cock in his mouth, until his nose is resting against his crotch.

 

"Gonna come," Harry whines and moves his hand from Louis's hair to his ear, tucking a loose strand behind his ear, and then cups his neck. "Can - Can you do the - ?"

 

Louis knows exactly what he's talking about, so he breathes deeply and starts sucking hard while one of his hands tugs t Harry's balls. That's what does it for Harry, and he drags Louis's face apart until his cock is out of his mouth, to come on his face. Louis's eyes are closed but his hands move to Harry's lower stomach to provide Harry stability while he bends over and streaks his face.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Harry groans, breathless. He cups Louis's face and helps him up that way. He stares at his come-stained face and kicks his jeans off. Then, Louis opens his eyes and Harry kisses him messily, tongue grazing the come on Louis's lips and licking it into his mouth. Then, he proceeds to kiss and lick his own come off Louis's face while his fiancé gasps and jerks himself off.

 

"Don't come," Harry warns. "'M gonna eat you out, if you want."

 

" _Yes_ ," Louis breathes out and gets on all four immediately. The carpet burns on his palms and his knees, but he forgets all about that when he feels Harry's hands spreading his cheeks apart and his tongue grazing over his hole.

 

"Fuck, Harry," Louis moans and touches his body. His pants and whines spur Harry on, and his licks get faster and longer. "Yes, Haz, please, just - _ah_."

 

Harry sticks the tip of his tongue inside and spreads the hole a little wider with his thumb. Louis's body is trembling while he presses against the rim and then enters the hole. His body jerks forward and his hands desperately fist what he can grab of the carpet, and it _stings_ but it feels _so good_. Harry's tongue fucking his ass always sends him into a kind of sensory overload that tend to make him come too quickly, but this time he's dedicated on lasting longer.

 

"Hmmm," Harry moans against the rim and, well, Louis's plans of lasting longer fly out the window when he comes with a cry, body trembling and falling pliant on the carpet.

 

Harry presses a kiss unto Louis's hole and arse cheeks before trailing up to the back of his neck, where he stops and lies besides Louis. His face is in front of Louis's but his fiancé's eyes are closed, sweat making his face glisten beautifully, and Harry just wants to stay like this forever.

 

He slips his leg in between Louis's and presses his forehead to his. "Love you, boo."

 

"Love you too, Haz," he answers breathlessly but leans up to place a chaste, sweet kiss on Harry's lips.

 

Their hands find each other, and their fingers act out of their own accord when they instinctively twine together. Harry is suddenly transported to when he first saw Louis, on a painting that stole both his breath and his heart once his eyes set on it. Since then he knew that he loved Louis, loved him without knowing him, but now that he _does_ know him what he feels is much deeper, much thorough, much more complicated. He doesn't know how to put it into words, but he tried his best with a marriage proposal.

 

And two weeks later, he tries with a heartfelt vow written two months before he proposed to Louis.

 

And two years later, he tries when explaining the story of how he met Louis to their daughter.

 

"Papa, Papa, tell me the story of how you and Daddy met!"

 

Louis smiles at her with such a fond expression from where he's sitting on the dining table, which is then sent to him when he shifts his gaze. "C'mon, Papa, tell 'er."

 

Harry chuckles and puts his orange juice back on the table. He looks into his daughter's dark eyes and smiles. "You really wanna know?"

 

"Yes, please, yes!" She's pounding on the table, now, with such excitement that Harry's heart flutters with so much love.

 

"Okay, okay," he looks at Louis with a sweet expression and licks his lips. "So, I went to this art show a few years ago…"

 

"Harry, what are you - ?"

 

"Let me finish, love," he softly interrupts Louis's question. "So, I went to this art show and saw uncle Zayn's exposition. Remember uncle Zayn, yeah?"

 

"Of course," she rolls her eyes. "He's married to uncle Niall, we went to their wedding, like, two weeks ago! Besides, his skin looks like mine, so I like him."

 

"That's very true, sweetie," Harry laughs and finds himself comparing Zayn's dark complexion with his daughter's own, not for the first time. "Now, I went to his exposition and he had the most beautiful painting I had ever seen, with the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life."

 

"Was that Daddy?"

 

"Yes, it was," Harry looks at Louis, who's now covering his mouth with his hand while tears are falling over his cheeks. "Though I didn't know at the time. So, I looked endlessly for him. Just by looking at the painting, I knew I was in love. I knew I had to meet the guy in the painting, because I knew he was my soulmate."

 

"What happened after? Did you find him?"

 

"If I didn't, we wouldn't be where we are now, sweetie," Harry chuckles but nods. "Yeah, I found him after three failed attempts. It was unexpected, and he was so beautiful that I thought he was a mannequin."

 

"Made a proper fool out of himself, you know," Louis interjects with a watery smile and laughs softly.

 

"I know. But I knew since then that I had to be with you."

 

Their daughter lets out an excitable squeal and hugs herself tightly. "Aww, that's so cute! Cute, cute, cute!" And she left running to her room, leaving them alone.

 

Louis sits on Harry's lap before he can say anything, and kisses Harry so fiercely he literally runs out of breath. "You - I. You never told me this."

 

"I know," Harry looks into his tear-ridden eyes and kisses some of the fallen ones. "I was waiting for the perfect opportunity, but it never came. Until now, that is."

 

"I just," Louis looks towards the ceiling and then to Harry, the smile on his lips so bright. "We were always meant to be, then?"

 

"That we were, love," Harry smiles into his neck. "That we were."

 

Harry still has that painting. It's in their closet, hidden behind the Hanukah and Christmas decorations. He realizes that, he'll never be able to put into words just how much he loves Louis, but that painting - that painting comes close.


End file.
